Mark Twain Confessional:

I think last night I heard Kyle and Cleopatra doin’ a little bit of this. (Makes an “O” shape with left hand, moves right pointer finger in and out of “O” shape.) I don’t have any solid evidence, no, but I feel that soon enough I will. (Raises a small legal pad with “Evidence” written across the top in crayon. Mark Twain winks at the camera demurely and spits on the ground.)

—

“He’s been on the damn computer all night!” Cleopatra screams. Carrot Top sits at the computer, looking annoyed.

“Maybe we should all share the computer,” Karl interjects, both hands outstretched in a gesture of mediation. “We all need it. It’d be most beneficial for us all to get equal time with the computer.”

“Stay out of this, Karl,” Carrot Top says, pointing at Karl. “Hey, hey Cleopatra, look at this!” Carrot Top holds up a stuffed toy dog with a comically-large set of teeth affixed to its mouth.

“What is that?” Cleopatra asks.

“This is the only mouthy bitch I need in my life.” Carrot Top then sets the dog on the computer desk and slides it into the trash can.

“When did you even have time to make that?” Cleopatra asks, hands on her hips, hair up in a towel.

“You know what? I don’t know.” The look on Carrot Top’s face leapt in an instant from over-whelming self-satisfaction to a deep, confused terror. “When did I make that?” Carrot Top begins trembling, starting at his hands.

Cleopatra reluctantly steps forward, placing a napkin on Carrot Top’s shoulder, then placing her hand on the napkin. “Are you all right, Carrot Top?” By this time, Kyle and Mother Teresa have entered the room. They are wearing eachother’s clothes.

Carrot Top looks up at Cleopatra, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “I’ll be a lot better if you’d let me…SCREW YOU!” From under the desk, he pulls out a giant power-drill with sunglasses taped to it. Cleopatra jerks her hands away and grumbles loudly. “Oh, come on!” Carrot Top yells. “That’s funny! It’s comic GOLD!” Carrot Top pulls out a foot-long, gold plated Jerry Seinfeld statue. Carrot Top then leans back, laughing obnoxiously. Kyle approaches him and pulls back his bonnet.

“Hey man. Why don’t you chill out?”

“Chill out? Well I’d have to say that it’s ice of you to stop b–” Carrot Top starts to reach under the desk.

“Stop,” Kyle says.

“Stop? Why don’t you learn to t–” He reaches under the desk again.

“You know, I’m kind of a prop comic myself,” Kyle says, his genitals slipping out from under his loose, poorly fitting nuns’ robes.

“Yea? Do one of your jokes, then, using one of your props.” Carrot Top crosses his arms and sits back in the chair. Kyle simply pulls back one side of the robe and removes a 9mm handgun with an ivory handle. Carrot Top almost falls out of his chair from shock. “What the hell kind of joke is this?!”

“The joke is that I’m going to shoot you in your stupid, plastic face,” Kyle says.

“What? How’s that a joke?”

“Well, I think it’d be pretty hilarious. Don’t you, Teresa?”

“Ohhhh yea,” Teresa says from a large bean bag chair in the corner of the room. Karl Marx and Katharine Hepburn sit across from her. Katharine is French-braiding Marx’s beard.

“Listen, I’m sorry, okay?” Carrot Top pleads. “I’m sorry for being so rude. That wasn’t cool.”

“You’re right. It wasn’t cool. Now. Get off the computer. Get off the computer and don’t get on for the rest of the night. From now on, you have to ask Karl for permission before you can use it.”

From across the room, Karl raises his arms and yells “Whatup? Computer master!”

“Do you understand?” Kyle asks.

“I understand,” Carrot Top says.

“Now clean the pee off that seat and tell Cleopatra she can use the computer.” Carrot Top gets up obediently, sprays the seat down with disinfectant from the kitchen, and dries it off. He leaves momentarily, and returns with Cleopatra.

“Thanks, Kyle,” Cleopatra says sweetly, running her hand along the middle of Kyle’s back as she walks to the desk.

(Camera zooms out to Mark Twain, who is now holding up his “Evidence” notepad, grinning. He begins writing furiously, then looks up and nods at the camera smugly.)